


another life, another chance

by kiranstein



Category: School 2013
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:29:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiranstein/pseuds/kiranstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walking down the catwalk gave him a high, a rush of adrenaline that ecstasy couldn’t provide, and made his fingers tingle. The roving eyes, flashing cameras, it built him up, strung him out, made him feel worshipped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	another life, another chance

His cheeks were hollowing again. The makeup artist tsked under her breath, brushing more bronzer on him than any other models, including the pasty girl from Busan. Namsoon tilted his face up to match her forcefully strokes, giggling when it tickled his nose.

“Hold still,” she berated. There was a smile tugging on her lips.

Namsoon smoothed his face out obediently.

She made a quick work of his forehead and elbowed him towards the hairstylist. “Now shoo.” She flapped her hands.

He got up and walked in the direction of the blow dryers, eyeing up the new crop as he passed by the writhing mass of nerves standing near the refreshment table. Namsoon would love to say he was once in their position, but he can’t, not really – his apathy made it hard for him to feel more than a smidgen of interest in any given time and certainly not for something he wasn’t interested in.

 

 

 

 

 

Walking down the catwalk gave him a high, a rush of adrenaline that ecstasy couldn’t provide, and made his fingers tingle. The roving eyes, flashing cameras, it built him up, strung him out, made him feel worshipped. Two, no three, years of work have wised him up about substance abuse, but the heady feeling from walking made up for all the powders he skipped out on.

There was the editor from Vogue, wrapped in her furs and giving him a smile of approval. The photographer next to her keeping his eyes on Namsoon’s every move. The movie star three seats down biting her lips.

It was all relative – relative to him. Moving at the same pace he was and shifting every time he picked up his feet.

 

 

 

 

Youngwoo was waiting for him when he got home. The other boy had swathed himself in blankets and was drinking tea in an attempt to stay awake. He nodded his head weakly in Namsoon’s direction when Namsoon dropped onto the couch.

“You know you don’t have to keep staying up for me right? The shows are running later and later and you have school tomorrow,” Namsoon said, stretching out his limbs to work out the cracks.

“I know,” Youngwoo mumbled into his cup.

“Alright,” Namsoon answered, looking over at Youngwoo, scanning for any signs of violence. “How was school?”

Youngwoo shrugged, his shoulders barely moving enough to show through his blankets. “It’s good – I met a boy named Minki today. He wants us to have lunch tomorrow to go over our notes.”

Namsoon looked away from the television at the mention of another person. “Do you want me to check him out?”

Youngwoo shook his head. “I think he’s alright. He’s friends with Hakyung.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not-” Namsoon paused, mulling over which word to use.

“I know,” Youngwoo reassured, pushing up his glasses. “But it’s just lunch; I think I’ll be okay. We’re eating at the bistro downtown.”

Namsoon sighed. “If you say so, but if you change your mind, I can still check up on him.”

“I know,” Youngwoo smiled down at his cup.

“Right,” Namsoon groaned, standing up and ruffling Youngwoo’s hair, “I’m off to shower then bed.”

“Night,” Youngwoo said.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Namsoon yawned, making his way to the bathroom.

 

 

 

 

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He dragged his hand over his face, pulling his mouth into a frown.  _One o’clock_. He groaned and forced himself out of bed.  _Tick tock_. Namsoon stretched in front of the bathroom mirror, bending over to check if he had any residual bruises or cuts. Once he’d made sure there were absolutely none, he stepped into the shower and let the hot water beat against his muscles.

The room still smelled musky when he stepped out to get changed. He half-heartedly contemplated opening a window, only to catch sight of the ice tendrils stretching around the sill and forget about it.

After smoothing down his sleeves and putting on his cufflinks, he shot himself a smile in the mirror. There was something to be said about being well groomed. Namsoon patted his hair down and petted the image in the mirror.

 

 

 

 

Shoots weren’t his favourite, of course nothing was, but photoshoots and their flashing were the worst. They made him grey and pale. His eyes would burn and his face would drag. The buildings where they shot were always cold and dingy – perfectly artistic and perfectly freezing no matter what the temperature was outside.

Namsoon’s surliness stayed for the entire shoot and the photographer applauded his work ethic. The stylist knew better and sneaked him some food between takes.

“Don’t frown too much or even the photographer will get suspicious,” she muttered to Namsoon under her breath while blowing on her hands.

Namsoon grunted, burrowing deeper into his jacket.

“And you might want to greet that new model – your agency’s thinking of picking him up,” she continued, nodding towards something behind Namsoon.

“I’ll greet him when they do,” Namsoon replied. He didn’t bother looking over, his scarf was finally tied properly and he had no urge to retie it just so he could see some newcomer.

 

 

 

 

He managed to somehow avoid the fresh meat until the spring shows. Namsoon’s not particularly social but he surprised even himself with how long it took him to see what the newcomer looked like. It takes him three months and a bit to actually come face to face with the brooding totem pole.

 _Park Heungsoo_.

Namsoon supposes it’s fate or whatever nonsense the stylist was sprouting at him while she was painting his face with bb cream, but he thinks it’s probably karma. Cold, hard karma tied up with a neat little fuck you.

Heungsoo doesn’t bow back when Namsoon bows. He’s straight as a stick and Namsoon can hear the judgemental eyebrows in the room. Heungsoo only bobs his head quickly and moves on.

 

 

 

 

 

_and the rest, as they say, is history_

**Author's Note:**

> kiralies@tumblr


End file.
